Parenting according to Dads

June 14, 2014

Parenting hack: There should be a warning buzzer on everything.
Baby wipes boxes should beep an alarm when you’re down to the last five wipes. Thermostats should drone when sticky toddler fingers come within five feet of them. Daughter spots someone she’s been eyeing in school? Fire alarms will do just fine.
Teenage alert: There are jokes and then there are Dad jokes.
Kid: Dad, where are we?
Dad: In the car.
These are the kind that doesn’t make sense to the kids until they become parents themselves. Because that’s when they realize that Dad Humor is as much about trying to ease out a crabby kid, as it is about keeping Dad sane. And the fact that Dad loves his jokes: hell, if the world heard even half of them, he’d be bigger than Jimmy Kimmel!
Fashion fail: If I wore my pants where you wore yours, would you still be cool with it?
Seriously. My generation is like the bridge between a species that wore their pants four inches above the navel, and the other that wears them four inches below. Your underpants were named so for a reason: they are meant to be under your pants. Hike up that pair of jeans before I’m pushed to hike them up for you, personally and publicly.
Generation gap: They don’t make music like they used to
The fact that your parents will hate the music you play is given: I know that and I went through it with my folks. And even though I listened to Wham and all the ‘crap songs’ of the 80s, I can’t for the life of me understand why my fourth-grader is talking of Katy Perry and Bieber and One Direction and Miley Cyrus and twerking instead of head-banging. I turned out just fine, but I can’t say the same for you. Not unless you realize my collection of Floyd and Grateful Dead is the reason I’m da man.
Love rules: I became a minivan owner for you guys
Who says love has to be measured in time spent at the playground or sleepless nights rocking a colicky baby or even paying for college tuition? For a dad who gave up his dreams of the wicked grille and sweet curves on a two-door coupe for a family taxi, there is no greater proof of love.